


it's all fun and games

by ddagent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Episode Tag, F/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 3.08. Rosalind and Phil talk about the day's revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's all fun and games

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Agents of SHIELD or any of its characters, or settings - all belongs to Marvel and ABC.
> 
> So, several people wanted a tag to 3.08, and after buckling down this evening I managed to write a little something. I’m excited to be contributing to this shiny new ship, I hope you enjoy!

Rosalind Price sat, cradling a glass of cheap scotch, marvelling at the SHIELD rec room. It didn’t fit with the sleek décor of the rest of the base. The furniture was mismatched; the upholstery fraying and old chocolate bar wrappers shoved down the side. The small kitchenette was a mess of dirty dishes and cereal boxes. The room felt more like it belonged in a college dorm than on a secret base. _She_ belonged more in the cold, metallic fixings of her own office than on this secret base.  

 

But, after today, Rosalind wasn’t sure where she belonged.

 

She took a sip of the scotch, wincing at the quality. It was all she had managed to find. SHIELD agents, it seemed, were beer drinkers. She was sure that Phil would have something better; no doubt he had a dusty liquor cabinet in his office somewhere. But she would rather drink the watered down scotch than engage him in conversation. At least for tonight.

 

Another sip. She glanced towards the door, brow furrowing as the two guards standing watch seemed to vanish. She reached for the bottle, attempting to pour herself another foul finger of scotch. When she looked up, Phil was standing in the doorway. He was right. He cut one hell of a silhouette. Phil passed silently into the room, footsteps hesitant, before coming to a stop right in front of her.

 

“Can I join you for a drink?”

 

Rosalind snorted, pulling the bottle in beside her. “I don’t think so. I try not to make the same mistake twice.”

 

Phil nodded. “I understand. Can I at least sit down?”

 

She shrugged. “Your base.”

 

With his lips pulled into a thin smile, Phil sat across from her. His blue eyes were unmoving, unwavering, as she made her way through her first drink of the evening. As she drained the last drop from the glass, she reached once more for the bottle. This time, she held it out to Phil after she was done.

 

“Thank you.” Phil pulled across a glass, a noticeable chip in the rim. He poured himself a small measure and knocked it back in one hit. His nose wrinkled at the taste, but like her he reached for another. “I think it’s worse for us.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Spies. I think it’s worse when we’re betrayed,” Phil explained. “Trained from day one not to trust anybody, not to let anybody in. But sometimes we have to. Then, when they betray us…it becomes a game. Should I have known; how could I have known? How could I miss it?”

 

Rosalind nodded, biting back the bile at the back of her throat. “How could _everyone_ miss it?”

 

“But everyone _does_ miss it. There was this man. John. Known him since I started at SHIELD. Known him longer than I’ve known May. I trusted him. He was my friend.” Phil blinked, his gaze stuck to the floor. “He had me tortured for information; had Daisy shot in the stomach. Tried to murder me and most of my team. Thirty years of friendship. I just kept asking myself… _how could I miss it_?”

 

Rosalind didn’t want to play that game. She had been sat in the almost dark for what felt like hours trying so hard not to play that game. Gideon Malick had been a friend; a trusted friend. He’d helped her career, even helped when things in her personal life had turned a dark corner. Another question came to mind as she sat ruminating on Gideon Malick. _How long before I would have run out of use?_

The slight tap of Phil’s glass against the coffee table pulled Rosalind out of her thoughts. “I got you a room. Not one of our containment rooms, one used by my agents. I figured until we have a game plan for Malick, you might not want to go home.”

 

“Thank you.” Rosalind swallowed the rest of her glass. “Thankfully he won’t be concerned if I don’t show up for a couple of days. He knows I’m visiting your base. He’ll just assume we’re sleeping together. Probably fits right into his game plan. Use _me_ to distract _you_.” He offered no retort, just picked up his glass and poured himself another drink. “Whilst we’re talking games, here’s one for you: what did I miss?”

 

 “I don’t understand.”

 

Rosalind shrugged. “It’s a simple question. You’re a good spy, Phil. So tell me what I missed. How could I have known that this was all a game?”

 

Phil wetted his lips with another sip of scotch. Before, his gaze had been unwavering. Now he couldn’t bear to look at her. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

 

“Sure you do, Phil. Come on…you said you had your finger on the eject button. I want to know _details_. What was fake, what was real…or at least your pale imitation of real.” She watched as Phil’s jaw began to flex, the muscles in his neck twitch. The fingers around his glass tightened. “Come on, you’ve been working me ever since we met. What was your game plan? _Spy to spy_.”

 

Phil buried himself in another glass of cheap scotch. He still couldn’t look at her. “Well, I didn’t have to fake a break in.”

 

“No, but I’m betting the tie was an act. A _good_ act, I’ll grant you.” Rosalind drained another glass.  “You kissed me first, do you remember? We were looking at one of my paintings; you took the glass from my hand and held my face? Do they teach you how to kiss at the SHIELD academy? How to make it believable?” Phil finally stared back. “Don’t give me that look; don’t act like you’re the injured party in this. This was nothing but a game to you. This time I want to know the rules.”

 

The glass crunched in Phil’s hand; shards of glass and drops of scotch falling over his fingertips. Neither of them moved. Neither of them said a word. Phil, after a while, brushed the remains of the glass to the floor. When he looked back up, his eyes seemed unguarded for the first time all day. The last time she’d seen that look had been in her bed. He had been smiling, caressing her face with the softest of touches. She wanted to believe that man was real. She wanted to believe that so much it _hurt_.

 

“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t playing a game?”

 

“No.”

 

Phil nodded. “I deserve that. But I wasn’t. It was just easier to believe you were Hydra than to consider the alternative.”

 

“What was the alternative?”

 

“That I have feelings for you.” His eyes remained soft, his smile even more so. “I didn’t plan on sleeping with you. But I wanted to. We had a moment and I…I didn’t want anything more.”

 

Rosalind swallowed. She’d been right. He had stopped trusting her as soon as they slept together. Everything after that moment of honesty was clouded in mistrust. Every touch, every kiss, every exchange. That, at least, had been a game. “So what now?”

 

“You’re not Hydra. So I have to deal with the alternative.” He paused. “I’m ready to stop playing games. Are you?”

 

She thought back to those moments; those unguarded moments. The tie. The kiss. Together in bed, her hand resting over his heart. She’d spent her life playing games, toying with the emotions of others. The one real thing she’d had disappeared a long, long time ago. She wanted to stop playing games. She wanted to stop.

 

“Pour me another.”

 

_Stop._


End file.
